


Connor makes an exit

by iba



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depression, Larry is the worst, Poor Connor, Suicide Attempt, tw self harm, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15414801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iba/pseuds/iba
Summary: Connor leaves the house after an argument with LarryAngst





	Connor makes an exit

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kinda writing the canon suicide, but Evan isn't mentioned

Connor didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was he had to get away, and then he was running, legs pumping, the door slamming behind him, Larry’s yells abruptly cut off. His head was spinning, his thoughts racing a million miles an hour. _You’re a disappointment, a useless failure. Everyone wishes you were never born. You have no friends, your father hates you, your sister is terrified of you._

 

“SHUT UP!” Connor snarled, startling the people on the street around him. He received several wary looks, making him feel like a freak, so he flipped off as many people as he could as he ran past. _You’re a loser, you don’t fit in, you scare people. Maybe Kleinman is right._

 

Connor pulled out his phone, pressing buttons furiously until the music flowing through his earphones was as loud as it would go. Still not loud enough. He needed it to be louder, until he could not hear his own thoughts, until he felt like his eardrums would shatter, until he could feel the reverberations echoing through his bones.

 

He ended up at the park, so tired from running he felt he could not take one more step. It was no surprise he wasn’t in shape, he always skipped gym in favour of smoking in his car. When he even bothered to show up to school. Collapsing on the dry yellow grass, he couldn’t help but laugh. Even the grass was dead. _You should follow_

 

Rummaging through his bag, he tried to find his stash of weed, but all he turned up was an empty baggie. Typical. As he pulled his hand out the bag, he felt the cool plastic cylinder which held his meds. Larry had long ago insisted he stop taking meds, stop seeing a psych, stop doing anything to help him get better because he wasn’t sick, he was attention seeking. _Fake fake fake fake attention seeker loser pathetic school shooter creep weirdo stupid useless failure. Just kill yourself already, you don’t deserve to live_

 

Connor pulled the bottle out, shook it, idly watching the movement of the pills inside. It was almost full. Larry had confiscated it days after he started taking them, and he had waited a few months to ensure Larry would forget they existed before he stole them back. Connor wasn’t interested in medicating himself any more. The time for that was long gone. His life couldn’t get any better now. This was it. He laughed bitterly, the ‘prime’ of his life had passed in a blur of anger, sadness and weed.

 

He wished he could go back to being a happy kid again. Go back to a time when laughter filled the house instead of shouting. A time when Zoe was his best friend and he would never ever hurt her. But that relationship is broken beyond repair. Zoe is so scared of him, she barricades herself in her room, living in fear of her monster older brother who comes home high and screams threats at the locked door. When Connor sobers up and realises what he’s done, he swears never again each time. But it always happens again. _What kind of person threatens to kill his sister? What the hell is your problem? What's wrong with you? What isn’t wrong with you?_

 

Tears were sliding down his face, hot and wet and unwanted. _Crying is for girls. Sissy weak baby loser._ Larry had drummed that into him as soon as he started to speak. Words are for men. Emotions are for girls. Larry thought Connor was too girly with his long hair and painted nails. Larry’s disapproval hung on Connor like a weight, his outdated expectations were a yoke around his neck.

“FUCK YOU” he screamed. Those words good enough for you Larry? But it wasn’t enough to release the anger building in his chest. He staggered over to a tree, drew back his fist and punched the trunk as hard as he could. Pain exploded through his fist, the skin had scraped off his knuckles and blood began to trickle.

 

Blood felt like home to Connor. Blood was the only thing in his miserable life he had any control over. Watching himself bleed, red gushing out from the cuts he made, was the closest to peaceful Connor ever felt. He was in another world, just him and the razor, no space for Larry or Zoe or Cynthia. He was a god. He was powerful. He was in control. He could breathe again. Until the cuts stopped bleeding and he was just the freak who always wore a sweater.

 

No one had ever seen Connor’s scars. _No one cares. Who could care about a crazy psycho with anger management problems?_

 

There was no one else in the park. No one had seen his outburst. No one knew he was out of control. He was so alone. That thought was chilling, his anger fizzled out leaving a heavy numbness. He could kill himself right now, and no one would notice, no one would care. _You can disappear. You can stop being such a burden. You’re a waste of space. No one will cry for the screw-up son. Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it_

 

He tipped the pills into the palm of his hand, wondering if it would be enough to do the job. _Only one way to find out freak_

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then swallowed the pills. He didn’t have any water, he coughed and spluttered as they went down his throat.

Connor had no last words, no suicide notes to write. _No one would read them anyway._

 

He pulled off his jacket, balled it up and stuck it under his head. _May as well be comfortable in your last moments. Not that you deserve to be comfortable. You should have slit your wrists. Pills are too easy, too painless for a monster like yourself_

 

The sun was setting, amber and pink streaks decorating the sky. Connor closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever open them again, or if this was it. The end. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. Thinking about the end helped him relax, the thought that one day, all this pain and fear would be over. That day could be today. That day would be today. Lying under a tree, the drugs beginning to cause his stomach to cramp, Connor Murphy smiled as he lost consciousness.


End file.
